Violet
by Hurtbytenderlies
Summary: The nights were when she bloomed and started again. She was such a beautiful flower. Fluff between Bella and Draco. Could be platonic or not. Not Explicit, just cuddles.


The nights when He left her in the biting cold of the manor were the worst. He left bruises on her porcelain skin. They bloomed over her flesh like violets, then they changed colors like she was wilting.

Still, Draco thought she was beautiful. Terrifying and mysterious, but so beautiful. She was dangerous and he shrank away in fear at her brutality in the field, but she was a source of wonder for him. How could someone so delicate-looking be so hardened, so numb to pain and war?

Nights when He was done with her, she'd pace the halls, shivering. Draco thought she looked like a caged animal. So mistreated and trapped. Nights like these, he swore he heard her howl to the moon in agony. Yet, she had no fur to warm her. Instead she had goosebumps.

She looked like she had been attacked in a brutal fight to the death sometimes; her skin could be battered and bloody, scratched, bruised, or torn. She didn't heal herself. Maybe the cool air was an ease to her wounds. These nights, everyone was asleep but her. He was awake, and to her surprise, so was Draco.

The first night he had seen her like this, she growled at him, like she was a vicious beast of the night. She spat his name hatefully and retreated to her room. Draco had only been out for water, but he decided it was not worth it to leave the safety of his room. She terrified him.

The next time, she was sitting on the windowsill over a white rosebush looking out towards the full moon. Her blood dripped on the flowers below, painting them red. Her hair blew in the wind. She turned to look at him with icy grey eyes, and he cowered away to his wing.

There started to be a time when he was not scared. She was just a confused victim. She was not innocent, but she was wounded. Draco wanted to help her.

She saw him approach her. She hissed at him to leave, but he approached. She drew her wand out slowly, like she didn't really want to. He took that time to pull her into his arms. He hugged her, though she threatened to scratch his eyes out.

He wondered if she'd ever felt a real hug before.

He was careful when he lead her to his room. He cleaned her up and scoured away the blood. He brushed her hair gently as she sat at the end of his bed, her eyes wide and childlike. She leaned into his touch until he brought he up to the pillows and wrapped his arms around her.

He felt wetness on his arm that cradled the side of her head and knew it was tears. She looked so defeated then. He whispered kind words to her and pulled the blankets over both of them.

He woke to her screaming in the night, awakened by nightmares. By the time his eyes had flown open, his sheets were astrew and she was gone.

She started to come to him in the night after that. He was her refuge. He would brush her hair, heal her wounds, and tuck her in. She would fall asleep in his arms. When she woke because of the frightening dreams he would cradle her like he never wanted her to leave. He would cradle her like she meant something to him. He was her savior.

She was never one to show weakness. Only in the darkness was she vulnerable. During the days, she would ruthlessly murder and torture. She had no control over her rage.

By night, she was his. He held her once and thought that she was a beautiful creature. She could not be tamed, but she could be loved.

Draco loved his aunt. He wanted to care for her like no one else had. He would not abandon or neglect her. He couldn't.

He needed her and he knew she needed him too. He'd hold her until the end of time if he could.

It was strange, but it was pure. He wanted to help her. He knew she wasn't a monster.

So, by night he held her until his world faded into day. She was gone by then, but her space was always warm when he woke. She didn't have nightmares as often in his arms.

Draco loved Bella, and he knew she loved him too.

Everything always faded into black at night, but he had her near. She was his and he was hers.

In a way, they saved each other.

The nights were when she bloomed and started again.

She was such a beautiful flower.


End file.
